


like no one saw it coming

by therjolras



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Complete, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therjolras/pseuds/therjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton's aware from the beginning that there's something weird about his marks, and no it's not the whole You Have A Mark On Your Skin That Will Tell You Who Your Soulmate Is thing. More like... no one Normal has three of them.</p><p>OR: they're all soulmates, Ashton has issues, Calum is totally fine with it, Michael's scared, and Luke wonders why everyone has to make it so complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> So... anyone hoping for pairings, I'm sorry? Sorta. I'm a Lashton girl, myself, but platonic soulmates warm my heart. Hence, this happening. Read on for sass! Also, salute to my girl Jo, who told me to finish so I could do useful things. Here, Jo, I'm done. Un-betaed, but I did go over it twice to make sure nothing stupid slipped through. Can't say anything about the pace-- that's all me.

Ashton was aware from the beginning that there’s something pretty effing weird about his soulmate marks. Aside from the obvious, _there’s a mark on your skin that will tell you who your soulmate is_ weird. Everyone knows that’s weird, right? It’s just... usually the marks only appear once.

Long story short, no one _normal_ has three effing soulmate marks. And it wasn’t like Ashton would ever be able to manage even one.

 

 _Even the wildest of abnormalities becomes mundane upon constant exposure_ , Calum’s mum once said. When Mali explained-- _weird things are normal once you’re used to them_ \-- he asked, _like three soulmates_? and Mali had thought about it for about three seconds before saying yeah, even that becomes normal.

Granted, at the time Calum was twelve. When you’ve had three soulmate marks since you were two, that’s plenty of time for something to stop being weird.

 

 _What’s wrong with three soulmates_? Luke sometimes said. _That’s just two extra people to love_.

 _It’s just not normal_ , his mum always replied. Sometimes her eyes lingered on the smudge on his jaw that would (hopefully) one day resolve. Her own mark, clear and bold, was always hidden under the collar of her shirt. She only had one. Dad only had one. Jack and Ben, when they got theirs, only had one.

Luke had always figured he was a little strange, and having three marks was just proof.

 

The smudges were faint enough that for years, Michael didn’t even realize they were there. There was just the one, a blotch on the inside of his elbow like someone had grabbed there with their hands covered in ink. Michael was perfectly normal until the summer he turned fifteen.

Then, _hallelujah_! Two more in one day. Not easy to miss, either, one dark grey along the top of his shoulder and the other across his ribcage like a bruise. Peachy.

Better bake than bleed, Michael thought, pulling on a hoodie. Better be a little weird than a freak.

 

 

“Come on, Hemmings, move your sorry arse!” Ashton yelled. “We’re on in _seven minutes_.”

“Bite me!” Luke called back, looking under the catering table. “I’ve lost me shoe.” It wasn’t under the catering table, and he sat down to look under the sofa as Ashton said, “Oh, for shit’s sake, Hemmings,” and appeared at the door. “Just get another pair of… shoes.” He trailed off. His eyes, originally aimed at Luke’s shoeless foot, had landed on the grey smudge on Luke’s ankle. Then they flickered up to Luke’s jaw, then back to his ankle. “You’ve got…”

“Seven minutes, Ash,” Luke said, uncomfortable under Ashton’s stare. “And seriously, we’ve seen each other naked and you didn’t realize I had multiple marks?” He flopped over and peeked under the sofa. “Ah, here it is.”

“Excuse me for never choosing to fixate on your ankles,” Ashton replied as Luke triumphantly extracted his shoe. “Just… doesn’t it worry you? That somewhere out there, you’ve got multiple soulmates waiting for you?”

“Not really,” Luke replied, shrugging. “I just figured it was you lot.”

“Oh,” Ashton said. Luke ignored his stricken expression and, fully shod, pushed past him out the door. “Five minutes, Ash!”

 

“ _I just figured it was you lot_ ,” Ashton said. Next to him, head leaned back against the seat, Calum raised an eyebrow. Ashton added, “Does that mean he’s got more than just the two?”

Calum opened his eyes just long enough to fix him with a Look. “You seriously never realized.”

Everyone knew about the mark on Luke’s jaw. It was the one obvious mark anyone in the band had, that you could look at pictures and say, _Oh, that’s where their soulmate will touch them in a special moment_. A lot of people said it looked like a bruise. Ashton had his, of course, but none of them were obvious, and Calum and Michael had enough tattoos between the two of them that everyone had long given up trying to figure out if any of them were natural.

Ashton said, “I guess after knowing about the one, I assumed that was it.”

“No, he’s got three,” Calum said. “Jaw, ankle, and the back of his neck. Easy to miss.” He closed his eyes again, and clearly expected that to be the end of the conversation.

Ashton said, “You’re surprisingly calm about this.”

Calum gave a sigh and said, “Even the greatest of abnormalities can become mundane by constant exposure.”

“What?”

“Weird things are normal once you’re used to them.”

“Oh,” Ashton said. “Who said that?” It hadn’t been Calum.

“My mum,” Calum said. “And Mali. When I was twelve. I got my marks when I was two. It stopped being weird when I couldn’t remember getting them.”

“No shit,” Ashton said. “You’ve got more than one?”

Calum, by way of an answer, pulled up the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt. There was a smudge just visible above the waistline of his jeans, dark grey against his brown skin. It flickered in and out of sight under the light of passing streetlamps. “Easier when you know what you’re looking for,” he said. “I’ve got another on my leg, but that’d be a nightmare to get to in these jeans. And--” He pointed to his wrist, where one of his tattoos wound up his forearm. Ashton gaped. “When did it clear?”

“We were seventeen,” Calum said. “Michael slipped into a ditch, and I caught him before he fell. When I pulled him out, there it was.”

“Michael’s your soulmate,” Ashton said. “Or one of them.”

“Start paying attention, Irwin,” Calum said. “You’ve lived with us for like, five years. You’d think you would have noticed by now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Ashton grumbled. “Ashton Irwin can’t see a soulmate mark if you waved it under his nose.”

 

As it turned out, Michael wound up being his roommate that night. Back at the hotel, after they’d settled down, Ashton brought it to him.

“Calum said he got one of his marks from you.”

Michael went the slightest bit rigid. “Yeah,” he said, and pointed to the tattoo on his shoulder. “It was weird, like. He saved me from falling into this ditch-- it was a monster of a ditch, too-- and when he pulled me out he hit me in the shoulder and said, ‘watch your step’ and when I let go of him I saw the mark where I grabbed him. And then my shoulder started feeling weird, and it was there.”

“And you two aren’t…?” Ashton said. Michael shook his head. “He’s my best friend. I mean, like, you’re all my best friends, but he’s been my best friend for longest. And… we’re happy like that. I think, if we tried to be like, _together_ together we’d just mess it up.” He shrugged, and Ashton said, “I guess that makes sense.”

“Are you ever jealous?” He added. “That he’s got two other soulmates out there somewhere?”

Michael went even more visibly rigid. “Nah. Course not. Why should I? We’re soulmates.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be jealous,” Ashton said. “Although, it could be he’s like Luke.”

“Like Luke how?” Michael’s eyebrows puckered. Ashton said, “You know, how Luke’s decided we’re his soulmates.” He gestured from himself to Michael, to clarify he meant the band. Michael’s eyes went wide. “You mean he’s got more than one?”

“Oh, thank god, I wasn’t the only one,” Ashton said. “Yeah, he’s got three. Apparently he doesn’t really hide them, either, but I didn’t realize he or Calum had more than one until tonight.”

“Here I thought we couldn’t get any weirder,” Michael muttered. His face had gone pale(r than usual), and he looked a bit dizzy. Not the best way to be handling a surprise. “Mike, you okay?” He said.

“Yeah, fine,” Michael mumbled. “I’m going to bed.” And he lay down and pulled the covers up so that only the top of his bright hair was visible.

 _Well, shi_ t, Ashton thought. Then he thought, _Michael’s got more than one_. Because Ashton, with three of his own, felt like Michael had looked. Like his mind was spinning in twelve different directions and his stomach had turned inside out and his head was too heavy for the rest of him. He touched the skin behind his ear, where he knew a faint grey smudge ran up into his hairline. Another,  hidden under a mess of bracelets, tracing around his wrist under a set of pale scars. A third on his collarbone, a smudge of charcoal.

Maybe Luke was right.

He hoped Luke was right.

...Luke was probably right.

 

“Do you think there’s any hot water left in the building?” Calum said, when Luke emerged from the bathroom in a towel and meandered over to pull a pair of sweats from his suitcase. Luke paused long enough to flip the bird at him before dismissing the towel and pulling on the sweats; Calum smiled and returned his attention to his phone as the younger boy joined him on the bed. “How’s the side?”

“Fine,” Luke said. “Bruised.” Calum looked: sure enough, there was a bruise running down his side and down past the waistband of his sweats. “Doesn’t look fine, that.”

“Sore a bit, but I’m not dying or anything,” Luke said. “Though the internet seems to think so.” Calum chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the whole world’s seen you falling off that box by now.”

Luke ducked his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I _know_ that,” Calum said, nudging him. “I checked with the techs, they said that box wasn’t bolted down properly. Won’t happen again.”

Luke smiled. “Thanks, Cal.”

“Don’t thank me, I just don’t want my neck broken,” Calum said. Luke laughed out loud, shoved him, and got up. “Smartass. I’m going to bed.”

“Go to bed, Lukey,” Calum said. Then, not looking up from his phone, “Ash knows. Says you told him.”

Luke, draped over his bed with one long leg dangling over the edge, smirked. “I can’t believe he didn’t find out sooner. S’not like either of us hid them.”

“It’s not like either of us walk around naked, you mean?” Calum said, and Luke grinned. “Yeah. That.”

“ _open up your eyes/it’s not like we’ve been hiding/dude when our skin’s bar_ e...shit. Oh! _how can you not see it there_?” Calum sang, and Luke laughed. He laughed again when Calum hummed a riff, air-guitaring his way through. “ _your friends have more than one/more than one/more than oooooooneeeee/we’ve got more than one soulmate, son_!”

“Stooooop,” Luke wheezed. Calum did stop, and there was a companionable pause. Then Calum said, “What if it’s not us?”

“What do you mean?” Luke frowned. “Like, what if my marks aren’t for you and Mike and Ashton?”

“Yeah,” Calum said. “What if they’re other people?”

“They’re not,” Luke said, and Calum could hear the certainty. “Right,” he said. “Okay.” And he looked back at his phone, and he didn’t look at Luke.

“You know I’d never leave you guys, right?” Luke said suddenly. “If it were someone else. You’re my family. Hell, we’re bandmates-- I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

When Calum looked up, Luke’s expression was earnest. His eyes were wide like he’d start crying if Calum pushed him.

“I’d never leave you, either,” Calum said. Luke smiled.

“Good that,” he said. Then, “Do you mind if I turn the light off?”

“Go ahead,” Calum said. “We should probably both sleep.”

Luke got up and turned off the light, and Calum switched off his phone and lay down as Luke padded back to bed.

“I still know it’s you lot,” Luke mumbled in the brief silence before both of them, completely and cheerfully exhausted, fell asleep.

 

Michael was awake. The room was dark; no light peeped around the edges of the drapes. Michael’s mind was a blur of sounds and emotions and the memory of places where his nerve endings had once shouted. Footsteps slapping on linoleum. Jostles, blows, mockery. Michael’s shoulder burning where Calum had touched him. Ashton’s voice: _soulmates soulmates soulmates_

Michael lay paralyzed, sleep still clinging to his skin, and then it was gone. He sat up, drawing in ragged breaths, his heart thumping a tattoo into his throat.

_soulmates soulmates soulmates_

_congratulations michael you’ve got three people to spend the rest of your life with but now it feels like a prison sentence congratulations michael you’re a freak you’re a freak_

“Michael?”

He jumped near out of his skin and turned to see Ashton (or the idea of ashton, nothing more than a dark shape in a dark room) stirring, propping itself up. “Mike, you okay?”

“Fine,” Michael managed. _just a dream, just a dream_

“Right,” Ashton murmured. “G’night, Michael,” he said, and lay down.

Michael lay back down, wishing he could stop hearing the freakshow going on between his ears.

_soulmates soulmates soulmates_

_ freak _


	2. and things happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin: things happen. there's sass. the boys are soulmates, maybe?

The change started quite abruptly, as if Ashton’s getting the wool lifted from his eyes was the catalyst.

(What no one ever said was, if it hadn’t been for the whole soulmate thing everyone would just have called it a _really_ bad weekend.)

It started just the next morning, with a magazine article. Ashton rolled them all out of their beds, chivvying them (with some adult assistance) to the bus, waving a little groggily to the few fans waiting around outside as they passed. A few snapped pictures. Quite a few more shouted names. The majority did a bit of screaming, which made Michael flinch. “Easy, Mike,” Luke mumbled, “just get on the bus,” and Michael grumbled assent. Ashton waved one more time before getting on board, and they all waved back.

“How can a crowd manage to be really creepy and really sweet all at once?” Michael said, when the bus was on the move. Calum, already transferred to his bunk nearest to the sitting area, snorted. “That’s, like, the definition of a groupie.”

“I try not to call them groupies,” Luke said, leafing through the pile of magazines on the tiny table. “The title doesn’t have any nice associations.”

“Appropriate and nice aren’t… Idunno. It can be one and not the other,” Michael said. “Hey, what’s that?”

‘That’ was a magazine with a photograph of Taylor Swift on the front. It was one of the gossip rags, and the photograph was from one of her recent Appearances, but in the bottom corner was a candid of her in New York. A tattoo on her neck was circled in red by the magazine.

“ _Has Taylor’s mark finally resolved? See inside for the scoop on Hollywood’s hottest soulmate stories_ ,” Michael read aloud. “Swear to god, Taylor’s in New York, not Hollywood, and why do we have this again?”

“They leave us the ones we’re mentioned in,” Ashton said. “Maybe you and Calum’s ‘man date’ made the sightings page.”

“It’s already all over the internet,” Calum supplied. “Everyone’s having a Malum freakout. Speaking of, Ash, what’s your weekend looking like?”

“Play music, sleep, sit in a bus?” Ashton said. “Why, are you asking me out?”

“I am asking if you’d care to tour one of America’s fine cities with me,” Calum said cheerfully. “Give the fans some Cashton to freak out over. You know how the internet works.”

“Don’t I,” Ashton said, and then he was interrupted by Michael making a funny noise in the direction of the magazine. “Ash, you’re in the soulmate article.”

“Seriously?” Luke said. “Lemme see.” He reached for the magazine, and Michael handed it over. Ashton leaned over Luke’s shoulder as the younger boy read aloud, “ _The 5sos boys are usually pretty elusive about their marks, with Luke’s being the only one we knew about for absolute ages, but we think we might have caught sunny heartthrob Ashton Irwin with his shirt off this time!_ Shut up, Michael. _We caught Ash saying hello to a fan in Nashville last week, wearing a sexy sleeveless shirt-_ \- Michael, I swear to god-- _and we think we might have caught a glimpse of a soulmate mark down his collar_! There’s a photograph.” Sure enough, there was a photograph. Ashton and Luke studied it as Michael tried to get his amusement under control. Ashton recognized the incident mentioned-- the fan in question had dressed like a sexy librarian (pencil skirts, god _damn_ ), and she’d made some offhand comment about being into drummers (“kidding. I just love the rhythm section-- it’s the backbone of music”) before telling him to stay safe and admitting that she had to run, she was late for work. The photograph was a selfie she’d asked to get, and sure enough there was his mark peeking out of the collar of his tank top.

“It’s not a fake,” he said.

“Seriously?” Luke said. Ashton nodded. “Whatever happened to ‘Ashton Irwin can’t see a soulmark? Pot calling kettle black, Hemmings?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Irwin. I obviously meant the groupie.”

“Did you get her number?” Calum said.

“If it comes to that, I have her twitter handle,” Ashton said, taking the magazine and waving it-- photo credit and all-- at him. “But I dooooon’t think she was thinking that direction.”

“You wish?” Michael said, smirking. Ashton said, “You didn’t see her legs. She was wearing a pencil skirt, and it was working.”

“Ashton Irwin, you dirty, dirty man,” Michael said. “But… I thought your mark was on your wrist.”

“What?” Ashton said. Michael pointed to Ashton’s wrist, where a hoodie hid scars and mark from sight. “No one ever sees it ‘cause that’s the wrist you cut on,” Michael said. Luke was frowning, concerned or confused, and Calum was  leaning out of his bunk to listen. Ashton felt cornered. Like at any minute, they were going to chase him into the locker room and kick him down. “I--”

“Ash, you alright?” Calum said.

“I-- yeah, I’ve got another mark,” Ashton managed. “Seems like it’s becoming a trend, yeah?” He pulled up his sleeve. A column of pale pink scars and a bracelet of smudgy grey greeted him.

Michael said, “Jesus christ.”

Dry-mouthed, Ashton said, “so, yeah, there you go. I think I’m gonna go back to bed, so… yeah.” He pulled his sleeve back down and fled.

 

Luke said softly, “I think we pushed him too hard.” Michael nodded. On the table, the magazine lay open to Taylor’s ‘article’ ( _Taylor and Lorde resolve in the same week, could it be?_ ) abandoned. Calum, silent, had joined them at the table. He’d checked on Ash before he came, and apparently the curtains were closed and he wasn’t taking visits.

“I’d say multiple marks is weird,” Michael said, “But face it, we’ve said that enough this week. Do you think he’s got more than one?”

Calum snorted. “In this band, the odds are for it.”

“We can’t ask, we’ll just freak him out more,” Luke said.

“Harry was right,” Michael said. “Tabloids ruin everything.”

_Jesus christ_

_jesus christ_

_jesus christ_

It sounded like confirmation-- or condemnation. Ashton curled closer into himself as the memory bounced around in his mind, falling neatly into place with every other fear he’d ever neatly labelled and filed away.

_why did dad go_

_three soulmarks isn’t normal_

_am I wanted?_

_three soulmarks and you’ll never be able to handle even one, mom never could_

_will they leave me_

_jesuschristjesuschristjesuschrist_

He must have slept, music turned up to eleven in his headphones and the gentle rocking motion of the bus lulling him to sleep, because he was jerked back to consciousness when someone touched his head. He also jumped like two feet and bashed his head on the roof of his bunk before managing to pull his headphones out and roll over.

Calum was there. His eyebrows were furrowed and his dark eyes were darker (emotionally) than usual. “We’re getting into the city,” he said.

“Really?” Ashton said, to avoid the obvious (being that Calum was worried). Calum shrugged. “Four hours-- s’why we got to stay at a hotel last night intstead of on the bus. Time flies when you’re moody and sad, eh, Irwin?”

“Eh,” Ashton said. “Thanks, Cal.”

Calum nodded and closed the curtain, leaving Ashton alone again. His ear itched a bit. A moment later, after he’d put his headphones in again, his phone buzzed. He opened it to see that Luke had sent him a snap, a photograph of him pouting with the text **plz come back mike and cal are being emo**. Ashton managed a smile and replied with a selfie of his own, **can’t. being emo**.

The reply was simply a photograph of Luke with an exaggerated sad face captioned with a frowny face. Ashton smiled a bit more. Then Luke pulled the curtains open, interrupting the last strains of _Viva la Gloria!_. “Are you still being emo?” He said.

“Are you?” Ashton replied, pausing the beginning of _Mona Lisa_. Luke said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Ashton said, propping himself up. Luke looked down, picking at his fingers. “We pushed you when we shouldn’t’ve, and we upset you, and I’m sorry. They’re sorry too, but they’re being emo and can’t say it.” He pointed towards the front to clarify Michael and Calum, then shrugged and looked again at Ashton. Ashton said, feeling a lump in his throat, “I forgive you,” and Luke found a small smile to give him. Ashton returned it with one of his own. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get this show on the road before we hit… Cincinnati, was it?”

“Cincinnati,” Luke said, fourteen shades brighter as Ashton tumbled out of his bunk. Luke reached into his back pocket and produced a bandanna.

“Thanks,” Ashton said. “Hey, can you look at me ear? It was itching.”

“Sure,” Luke said, just in time for Ashton to realize that was his marked ear. “Luke--” he said, and Luke’s fingers were brushing his hair out of the way. Then he said, “Ash, don’t move,” whipped out his phone, and took a photo of his ear. “Your ear’s fine,” he said, “Aside from the fact that you’ve got a resolved mark there.”

Ashton froze. Luke held out his phone, opened to a photograph of Ashton’s ear. Sure enough, instead of a smudge there was a resolved mark emerging from the hairline behind his ear. Ashton said quietly, “Oh.”

“No kidding,” Luke said. “Any idea who it could be?”

“No idea,” Ashton said, as quickly as he could get it out. Luke started back (emotionally, sort of, he jerked back like Ashton had said something insulting) but then he pulled a smile up. “Should I tell the others?”

“Nah. We’ll make it a surprise,” Ashton said quickly. “I’ll see you up there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, and went back towards the front. Ashton touched behind his ear, where his proper resolved Mark was hiding. “Shit,” he muttered, and hastily tied his bandanna on. _Make it a surprise,_ more like _never mention it again._

 

“Luke, you alright?” Michael said. Luke looked up from his phone, reigning in whatever… upsetness was showing on his face. “Yeah. Why?” He said. Michael frowned. “Nevermind.”

“Right,” Luke said, looking back down at his phone.  The image of Ashton’s mark was hidden, saved to the depths of his camera roll, but he felt like he was still staring at it: thick black lines resolving into swirls and pools like when you dropped oil into water. Like the black bits were oil and Ashton’s skin was water.

“We’re slowing down!” Calum called. “Game faces, boys!”

Luke glanced out the window. The afternoon was muted, the landscape’s edges blurred by the fog. Somewhere high above-- Luke had to crane his head to look between the tall buildings for a glimpse-- the sky was grey in the way that suggested rain later. America’s climate was weird, Luke thought. Closer to reality, the bus was definitely slowing down, and Luke could see the venue looming up ahead. On the passing sidewalks, he could see people pass to watch the bus pass-- heh. Bus pass. A great deal of them obviously knew who was on the bus, because they very quickly got very excited. Luke waved, feeling a little better as their faces brightened.

_Game face_ , he thought. Rub a bit at the mark on his jaw. Deep breath. Smile. Pull beanie on, smile again, put your phone away and get out a pen. Game face.

Ashton bustled past him towards the door, grinning like it was the best day of his life and not  like he’d been having an existential crisis in his bunk not an hour ago.

Game face.

Luke pulled his beanie low over his ears and got up, smiling like Ash wasn’t having an existential crisis and dismissing it to Luke’s face. Like Ash possibly not being their soulmate wasn’t at all a big deal. Michael and Calum were already by the door, looking positively peachy, and when the doors opened and the assembled fans lost their collective shit they skipped down the steps to give and receive love like it was nothing.

Of course Luke managed. He loved the fans-- loved their spirit, loved the fact that people could actually think he was worth something. He hugged and smiled and selfied and signed, and not far away Ash and Cal and Mike were doing the same.

“Could you, like, kiss my cheek?” A fan said. Luke obliged. Once, a fan had asked such a thing of Ashton, then turned so he caught her lips instead. They’d laughed later. This girl didn’t try that trick; she thanked him somewhat tearfully and he moved on. Michael was behind him, beaming and hugging and allowing a fan to touch his hair. Luke signed a record and looked around for the others. Calum was commanding a crowd; Ashton was easing his way towards the doors. Michael was nowhere to be seen, which concerned Luke. Hadn’t he been right there--

something grabbed his ankle. Luke spun around, looked down; Michael, sprawled on the ground, grabbed his hand and pulled himself up. He was white as a sheet. “Tripped,” he managed. “Can we go inside?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Luke said, quickly glancing around at the others before pushing through the crowd. Michael clung to the back of his jacket like a small child, or a duckling, apologizing profusely as he passed through. Luke apologized his share, but he was focused on not slowing down on his way inside. When the doors closed behind him and Michael had found the nearest opportune place to sit (the floor), Luke sat down and said, “What was that?”

“I just tripped,” Michael mumbled. “There were all these people stomping around… I thought I was gonna get trampled. It’s silly but a crowd is scarier from the ground, I swear--”

“I don’t blame you for being scared,” Luke said. “I’ve heard the stories about mosh pits, back in the day.”

Michael snorted. “Are you comparing our fans to a mosh pit?”

“Same difference when you’re flat on your face,” Luke said. Michael snorted. Luke said, “Wanna wait for Ash?”

“Sure,” Michael said, because both of them knew _wait here for Ash_ meant _sit here until we’re not panicking anymore_. Luke settled down on the carpet and sat quietly, knowing Michael would talk when he was ready. In the meantime Ashton arrived, full of energy and sporting a lipstick smudge on his cheek. Michael sniggered at the sight. “Someone’s got gaaaaaaame.”

“Shut up,” Ashton said, catching sight of his face in one of the dark windows and rubbing at the smudge. “Maybe I do. You alright?”

Luke, recognizing the return of Michael’s humor, knew he was going to be fine. “Accident,” he said. “Michael’s. We’re both fine-- right?” He added to Michael, and Michael nodded. “We’re good.”

Ashton nodded. “Good that. Where’s Cal?”

Luke and Michael shrugged, and Calum made his timely arrival. “What’s everyone sitting on the floor for? Are you rendezvousing without me?”

“Yes, darling,” Michael and Ashton said in unison. “We left you to enjoy the sound of your own voice,” Luke added.

“A fair endeavor,” Calum said, with false gravitas. “We going?”

“We are,” Ashton said. “Muke?”

“I’m coming,” Luke said, getting up and offering Michael a hand. Michael got up by himself. “I’m here.”

“Fantastic,” said Calum. “Where’s an adult?”

“We _are_ adults,” Luke said.

“No we’re not,” Calum said.

“ _I’m_ an adult,” Ashton said.

“No you’re not,” Calum said. “We need an _actua_ l adult. None of us know where we’re going.”

“We don’t?” Michael said. Calum rolled his eyes at his (proven) soulmate and looked around the lobby. An adult showed themselves to him, and the four of them all followed said adult down three corridors and up a flight of stairs and down another corridor that looked like any other backstage they’d ever seen.

“Another  day, another show,” Calum said, because there was a camera there. Michael and Luke waved at it; Ashton made a funny face at it. Then they went out onto the stage for soundcheck and Luke jumped off all the boxes, one at a time. One wobbled.

“See to that,” Calum told one of the techs. Said tech nodded absentmindedly and went back to whatever he’d been doing. After twenty minutes of riffs and butchered lyrics, they went up to the dressing room and Michael promptly stole the sofa. In retaliation, Calum lay on top of him. Luke and Ashton were left to play rock-paper-scissors for the remaining armchair, and Luke won; rather than protest, Ashton sat on his lap. “It’s a damn good thing this band doesn’t have a thing about personal space,” he said.

“You’re telling me,” Luke muttered, propping his phone on Ashton’s stomach. “We’d make good soulmates. Four assholes who don’t know what personal space is.”

“You and Calum and Michael,” Ashton said absentmindedly. “Cuddly energetic idiots.”

Luke froze. “Not you?”

“Oh-- yeah, me,” Ashton said. “Idunno. You know me. Attachment issues straight out of a soap opera, Lukey. Not your fault.” He ruffled Luke’s hair and Luke batted his hand away. “You’ve dealt with us thus far.”

“Yeah, but… soulmarks make it permanent. Like, _congratulations, you’re stuck with these people for the rest of your life_. Not that I’m not already, but a band is fun. Soulmarks are a prison sentence.” Luke looked at him. Ashton looked surprisingly small and sad, like he’d just admitted a terrible secret. His arm was looped around Luke’s shoulders, and Luke felt the brush of his fingers on the back of his neck where the ends of his hair hid a smudge.

Luke said softly, “We wouldn’t make you stay, if you didn’t want to.”

Ashton looked away. “Thanks, Lukey.”

 

Calum was uneasy. Something had happened between Ashton and Luke while he and Michael were napping on each other, and now Luke was avoiding Ashton like the plague. On top of _that,_ Luke had called Michael over while he was putting on his shoes and now Michael was avoiding _Luke_ like the plague. Whatever they were arguing about, Calum wished they’d have done it later. It was always a bad idea to argue before a show-- it messed with the chemistry of a performance. You could always tell by their stage presence if someone was pissed.

“Are you good?” He asked Michael as he adjusted the strap of his bass over his shoulder. Michael shrugged. “Fine.”

“Okay, I’m gonna try again,” Calum said. “Hey, _soulmate_ , what’s up with you and Luke?”

“It’s stupid,” Michael said. “I’ll talk to him after, yeah? We’re fine.”

“60 seconds, boys!” Someone said, and Calum had to be happy with the answer he got. “Do you know anything about Luke and Ash?”

Michael shook his head. “Could be Ash’s soulmate thing.”

“Ash’s soulmate thing?” Calum said. “Like the He’s Afraid of Having Multiple Soulmates thing?”

“You mean the Ashton Irwin’s Afraid of Attachment Because He Comes From a Broken Home thing, right?” Michael said.

“What?” Calum said.

“30 seconds!” Someone yelled.

“Shit,” Calum said. “We’re talking about this. After the show, we’re talking about this. This is an issue.”

“Yes, this is an issue,” Michael said. “And it’s showtime. Put on your game face. We’re coming!” He shouted, and ran for the stage.

It was showtime, and for a moment it was good. The crowd roared and Calum’s heart was pounding in his throat and lights flared and everything was adrenaline and energy and _joy_. But Luke wouldn’t or couldn’t look Michael or Ashton in the eye, and Michael was nervous, and Ashton was hitting all the notes but Calum and probably everyone could tell he was playing at half capacity and some idiot hadn’t bolted down that one fucking loose box.

It was abrupt. Luke was playing his bit, dicking around and basically enjoying himself (because who can’t, even on a bad day, standing on top of the world and hearing the joyous roars of a bajillion people in their ears?) and he jumped onto the box, bounced, coiled to jump off-- and the box didn’t just wobble a bit, it moved, right out from under Luke’s feet. Had it not been terrifying, Calum later thought, it would have been ridiculous. Luke flies backward, rolls in midair, the guitar flies, Luke lands on his stomach with the guitar under him and no it’s not his spine making that noise it’s the neck of the guitar

and Michael finished the verse just in time to see Luke land, and his eyes went wide, and Calum wasn’t singing because he was running to Luke’s side, just in time to see him roll over (not dead!), face contorted with pain, the neck of the guitar broken, _blood_

seeping through Luke’s shirt, and Calum was pulling off his flannel to do _something_ about the bleeding, dropping to his knees, grabbing Luke’s face with his free hand and pulling him around to look him in the eye. “Tell me straight,” he said, “Are you dying?”

Luke tried to smile and it came out as a grimace. He was propped on his elbows, trying to get up, and then the medic was there and telling him to lie back down, examining the damage, and somewhere far away Calum could hear Michael and Ashton’s voices. Strained. Tense. Frightened. “I need to tell ‘em you’re going to be okay,” he told Luke, dropping his hand, and Luke nodded, but then he smiled smugly-- a proper smile-- and he poked Calum in the side and said, “I told you.”

Because, _Oh, shit_ , the mark on Luke’s jaw had resolved.

 

Luke’s okay. Luke’s okay.

It was the first thing Calum had said upon leaving Luke’s side, and it was the last thing he’d said to anyone before he went with Luke and the medic to the emergency room and left Ashton and Michael doing damage control on their own. Apologizing, reassuring, pretending they definitely weren’t panicking, reassuring twice that _Luke was fine, he’d just been in an accident, he’d be fine_ before rushing to the hospital as fast as they could only be told it was too crowded in the ER, they’d have to wait.

So the two of them waited, side by side in the tiny hard hospital chairs, and if Michael was gripping Ashton’s wrist like a lifeline and Ashton’s free hand was on Michael’s arm like a reassurance, it was their business.

“He’s okay,” Ashton said again. “Just an impact laceration from the guitar.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Michael said.

“It means they know what to do to help him,” Ashton said. “It means he’s going to be okay.”

“Sounds awfully nice,” Michael muttered. Ashton ducked his head, huffing a tiny laugh, the idea of a laugh, and when he looked up Michael was looking at his head.

“What’s that?” He said, and pointed to the side of his head where he was no longer wearing a bandanna. “Ash, you’ve got a mark.”

“I’ve got three, you oblivious arse,” Ashton said, and Michael looked like he was going to say something else, but then Calum appeared and sat down next to Ashton like a plane crashing. He looked exhausted, but not terrified for anyone’s life, which Ashton figured was a good thing.

“How is he?” Michael said.

“He’s good,” Calum said. “They’re stitching him up, they cleaned it out and gave him some painkillers. And… guys, his mark’s resolved.” He tapped his chin. Michael gaped. “ _What_?”

Calum smiled a smile that looked like it could eat up his whole face, exhaustion and all. “It resolved. I grabbed his face after he fell, and _guys_ , we’re soulmates, look--” without pausing for breath, he pulled up the hem of his shirt. Where had been a smudge on his hipbone was now a tiny cluster of black stars.

“ _Cal_ ,” Michael said, and he was beaming. Calum smiled wider. Ashton felt a smile of his own coming on, a smile that felt like it would eat up his whole face, and something in his chest felt light and excited and _relieved_. “Look at _you_ , gettin’ around,”  he said, kicking Calum in the leg. “Save some for the rest of us!”

The comment jerked Michael from his shock. “Calum,” he said. “Look at this.” And he pushed Ashton’s head around so his mark was facing Calum and pushed the hair out of the way. Calum must have seen the mark, because he grinned. “Look at _that_!” He said. “Who’s the lucky human, Irwin?”

“I--” Ashton said, but Michael interrupted him. “No, Cal-- look at _that_ , then look at this.” He shrugged off his jacket and pointed to the mark there, Calum’s mark.

“ _Shit_ ,” Calum said. “Ash, one of your marks is mine!”

“ _What?_ ” Ashton said. “Michael, let go!” He pulled away from Michael and touched the skin behind his ear where he knew it was marked, apparently to match Michael’s.

“Ash, we’re-- Michael, seriously?” Calum, mid-sentence, looked past Ashton and completely switched gears. Ashton turned to look in the same direction and found himself looking at Michael’s bare arm. _Right there_ was a second resolved mark.

“Um,” Michael said, “I think it’s Ashton’s.”

“What,” Ashton said. Michael grabbed his wrist and pushed the bracelets down his arm; there was a mark there, a scratchy, snakelike pattern circling his wrist where previously there had been a smudge.

“Two out of three,” Calum said.

“Not counting the one I gave Luke,” Michael muttered, and the _what_ s went around again.

“You’re telling me you resolved one of Luke’s marks too?” Calum said. Michael nodded. “When I fell, when we got to the venue? I grabbed Luke’s ankle, and when he changed his shoes before the show he found it. He told me, and I freaked out, and-- that’s why we were arguing before.” He slumped a bit. “I freaked out.”

“I freaked out a bit too, to be fair,” Ashton said. “Ashton afraid-of-commitment Irwin and Michael afraid-of-being-weird Clifford.”

“Fuck off, soulmate,” Michael said, pushing him, and then Ashton was laughing. And Calum was laughing. And Michael was laughing, all three of them relieved and exhausted and completely fucking overwhelmed with everything, but they were going to be alright and that was enough.

At least, until one of the nurses came up and said that first, they were causing a disturbance and _second_ , Luke was ready to leave.

It wasn’t that they sobered up after that, because Ashton still felt like he was walking on air. They just stopped laughing hard enough to cause a disturbance and followed the nurse back to where Luke was. Said Luke was shirtless, draped in a blanket, and had a tidy row of stark black stitches running down his side, but he looked otherwise alright. Chipper, even.

“Hiii,” he said, and that was when Ashton realized he had some painkillers in his system. “Hallo, Lukey,” he said, and Luke promptly lurched to his feet and hugged him. “I feel a bit high,” he said.

“That’s painkillers for you,” Ashton said, a bit muffled, into Luke’s shoulder. “How you doin’, Lukey?”

“Great!” Luke said. He released Ashton. “When the nurse was looking me over, she found my other mark. It’s resolved!”

“ _What_?” Ashton, Michael, and Calum all said. Luke turned around and pointed. Instead of a smudge, he had a swirly thing in the hollow of his neck.

Michael said, “It’s Ashton’s.”

“I know!” Luke said, turning back around. “He was messing with my mark when we were talking earlier. Did you know you’d resolved it?” He added to Ashton, and Ashton shook his head. Feeling of walking on air increased 200 percent. “I didn’t know,” he said. “But look!” He held out his wrist. “It resolved! It’s Michael’s.”

“And this is Ash’s,” Michael said, holding out his arm. Luke beamed. “See, I _told_ you.” He shoved at Ashton, but just barely managed to come in contact with his chest. “I _told_ you. And _you_ ,” he added to Michael, poking him in the stomach (this time he didn’t miss), “What happened to ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’?”

“I freaked out,” Michael said. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Luke said, and hugged him. Calum hugged them both, and Michael in response dragged Ashton into it. “Here we are,” he said. “A bunch of idiots hugging in the ER. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Well, not home, but back to the bus at least,” Calum said.

“That works,” Luke said.

 

_**@Luke5SOS:** hey guys!!! im doing really well thanks for asking everything is great_

_**@Luke5SOS:** its one of those days when you get everything you want out of life ^_^_

 

 


	3. epilogue, sort of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy endings, I suppose.

_(from inTouch, Saturday October 17) break out the ice cream, girls, because all our wildest dreams have just been shattered! Newly recovered Luke Hemmings, out with best bro Calum Hood in LA today, has gotten that oh-so-sexy mark of his resolved! And unless we’re mistaken and he’s chosen a really weird place to get a new tattoo, that pretty thing on the back of his neck is a_ second _resolved mark. Twice denied! Our hearts bleed. And think about this, while you’re at it-- where have we seen that pattern on Luke’s jaw before? That’s right! Bandmate Michael Clifford has it all over his shoulder. Could it be…?_

 

_**@Calum5SOS:** just to clear it up I officially have three soulmates_

_**@Calum5SOS:** best lads I’ve ever known_

_**@NiallOfficial:** @Calum5SOS since when am I your soulmate_

**_@Luke5SOS favorited this_ **

 

Luke was lying on the sofa. This would be perfectly fine, had he not also been lying on Michael and Ashton. Calum had claimed the armchair, legs crossed and Ashton’s mark-- curling lines like waves in a contained circle, of sorts-- peeping out the leg of his shorts. Luke was half-asleep, and Ashton was absentmindedly fiddling with his hair. Michael, bare-chested, was prodding the cross-hatchy mark on Luke’s ankle, likely contemplating adding to it with the sharpie behind his ear.

Ashton said, “People say life with your soulmates is going to be romantic and perfect. When exactly does that kick in?”

Michael said, “Search me.”

Calum said, “What reality are you living? Luke’s a fantastic soulmate. Affectionate, cheery, no backbone--”

Luke lifted his head from Ashton’s lap and flipped the bird at Calum before laying his head back down. Ashton said, “This reality.”

“I like the new blue, Michael,” Luke added, as if it hadn’t been blue for the past two days. Michael said, “Thank you, Luke.”

Ashton said, “Michael, was Calum a perfect soulmate before we came along?”

“Nah,” Michael said. “He never cooked.”

“None of us can cook, though,” Ashton said.

“I can cook,” Luke said.

“No you can’t,” his three soulmates said in unison. Luke opened his eyes and prodded Ashton, right where the collar of his shirt showed the stars on his skin. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Love doesn’t lie,” Ashton said, like it was obvious. Luke huffed. “Love could at least give it a shot.”

“To be fair, Ashton can’t lie either,” Michael said. Ashton reached over and shoved him. “I thought that was a secret!”

Calum cracked a smile. Luke giggled. Michael grinned like he was the funniest bloke in the southern hemisphere, and Ashton said, “You lot are the worst soulmates I could ask for.”

“Thing is, though, you didn’t ask for us,” Michael said cheerfully, pointing to the stars on his side with his marked arm. “You’re stuck with us for life.”

And to Ashton, it didn’t sound so bad.

 

_**@littlelaurel:** can i ask why your arm and shoulder tats don’t match the rest?_

_**@Michael5SOS:** they’re soulmate marks from ash and cal  <3_

_**@Michael5SOS:** i obviously have one from luke but it’s hiding_

_**@Michael5SOS:** you don’t show off when luke’s your soulmate_

**_@Luke5SOS favorited this_ **

_  
(from Empire, December 29 2015) and the truth is out! Yesterday on twitter, Michael Clifford let us all know the truth about 5SOS’s friendship: they’re soulmates. Like no one saw that coming.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEll, that's that. Seven-eight thousand words and seventeen pages on a word doc! Thanks for reading. :-) If you liked, please leave feedback! Feedback is 24-Karat joy to writers.
> 
> For anyone wondering about the soulmate marks: they're a system I made up, sort of. You're born with a mark, a smudge, and when your soulmate touches you there, feeling a certain way, it resolves into an image or pattern signifying your soulmate. So, crosshatchy-interconnecty thing for Mike, swirlies for Cal and Ash, stars for Luke. The emotional triggers vary-- fear and trust for Michael, concern for Calum, pride for Luke, empathy for Ash. [phew] that's my fourth time typing that up. my shoulder hurts. Anyway, thanks again for reading!


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